Reflections Of Desire
by CherrySin
Summary: Desire is pure flame: it is the reflex of our earthly frame, that takes its meaning from the nobler part and all but translates the obsession of ones heart...AU.
1. Chapter 1: PROLOGUE

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Criminal Minds or its characters. I do, however, own this plot and any OC's I might throw at you…**

**A/N: **Before I get on with the story I'd like to point out a few things to avoid confusion:

1. This story takes place at/after the end of season 6 (I think), when on the show Aaron announced that the whole B.A.U. team is being given a chance to transfer to other units within the FBI, if they so wish, and the beginning of season 7 which picked up about 6 months or so later from where season 6 ended, insinuating that at least some of the members of the B.A.U. team were otherwise engaged during that time, like Hotch for example, who was aiding the troops in Afghanistan in the fight against terrorism. Now, for this story to work the way I want it to, I'm changing things up a bit. The offer to transfer or whatever was still made and the members who temporarily transferred to other units on the show still does so in Reflections Of Desire. The only difference is that, instead of leaving for Afghanistan, in this story, Aaron stayed in the U.S.

2. There is no Jack, there was no Foeytt which means Haley wasn't murdered. Instead, she is divorcing Aaron.

3. This story is rated M for a reason. If you are under 18 please refrain from reading it.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

**TWO MONTHS AGO:**

Impatiently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel he sighed in mild frustration and once again glanced at his wristwatch. ''_Hmm…18:30. What could possibly be taking so long?'', _he wondered.

''_Maybe she got held up in a meeting…'', _he pondered while peeking out the driver's side window. His eyes strayed towards the building he has been vigilantly camped out across from for the better part of the day now, _''…or maybe she ran into one of her snobby clients...'', _his thought train was interrupted when he finally saw her exiting the building with a little friendly wave of her hand at the evening shift security guard.

''Ahh…there you are, my love'', he sighed quietly while his eyes greedily took in the gorgeous young woman's form. _''So beautiful…'',_ he thought._  
_

And she truly was. At just over 5'1'', the petite Anna Marie Geraldi was almost other-worldly kind of beautiful.

Alertly, he watched her make her way towards her canary yellow Porsche, sighing longingly when she tucked an unruly strand of mahogany hair behind her ear, wishing, not for the first time it was he who did that. He closed his eyes but for a second, imagining running his fingers through her silken tresses…_ ''Oh, Anna Marie…if only you knew just how much I-''_. His little fantasy was interrupted by her tinkling laughter. With a happy smile stretching his lips at the beautiful sound of her voice, he slowly opened his eyes.

The sight that greeted him, however, erased that smile faster than a tranquilizer dart knocks out an angry rhino.

''_What is this now?!'', _he seethed as he watched his beloved hug another. _''NO!''._

Breathing heavily, he reached for the revolver resting under his seat while the voice in his head screamed at him: _**''Stop it! You have to stop it right now! You cannot let him touch what's ours!''.**_ Finally having located the weapon, he wrapped his hand around it and snarled.

_**''She's ours and ours alone!'',**_ the voice continued, spurring him to take control of the situation. He only nodded his head in agreement and reached for the door handle when suddenly Anna Marie laughed again, the sound of her musical voice momentarily distracting him and he watched instead as the beautiful young woman gently placed a hand on the tall, sandy haired male's chest, pushing him aside.

Grinning in satisfaction at her not so subtle rebuttal of the other male, he loosened the iron grip on the revolver, gradually letting it slip out of his hand and land at his feet with a soft thud as he intently watched his darling girl get in her treasured Porsche.

''_**That was close'',**_ the voice murmured and he nodded his head in agreement. _**''Too close for my…our...liking. She shouldn't have let him do that, she should know better!'', **_the voice hissed angrily and again, he found himself agreeing. Vigilantly, he watched Anna start her car and then pull out of her parking space.

He turned the key in his own vehicles ignition and as it came to life, the voice commanded: _**''follow…''.**_

''_Follow?'', _he inquired even as he pulled out of his own parking spot, already set on following his cherished Anna Marie home.

''_**Yes'', **_the voice hissed in response. _**''We cannot let something like this happen again!''.**_

''_Right!''._

''_**So tonight, we claim her!''.**_

''_Yes…tonight, we claim…'', _he agreed.

* * *

''_Soon, my darling…'', _he thought to himself from his spot just on the other side of the street from her house, watching as Anna Marie unlocked and opened the front door, turned on the hallway light and punched in the security code.

''Soon you'll be mine…'', he whispered under his breath, a smile once again tugging at his lips as she gently kicked the front door closed.

With a happy sigh, he made himself as comfortable in the front seat of his vehicle as possible while still keeping his eyes trained on the house his beautiful girl disappeared into and just sat…waiting.

* * *

Nervous anticipation coursed through his veins as he glanced at his trusty wristwatch. _''01:45.'',_ he noted, slowly nodding his head.

''_**Its time'', **_the voice whispered, _**''…it has been an hour since the last light went out. There's no doubt she's asleep…just like her neighbors''. **_

He hummed his agreement and pulling a rucksack that had clearly seen better days off the passenger seat, he quietly opened the door and exited the vehicle.

Taking a second to stretch his sore muscles, he looked around himself, making absolutely sure there was no one who could see him.

''_**Go!'',**_ the voice screamed angrily, _**''…there's no one here. Everyone's asleep. Go already!''.**_

''_Alright…'', _he agreed and hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, he quickly crossed the street, his feet carrying him closer and closer to Anna Marie with each step he took.

Mindful of possible witnesses even though the voice assured him there wouldn't be any, he stuck to the shadows until he reached the side of her house. Stopping just for a second to cast a glance behind him, he crouched low and sprinted around the property, feeling more than grateful for the lack of a fence or a guard dog which would have complicated his plans for tonight.

Stopping at the back door, he smiled and pulled out a bobby-pin from his jeans pocket. Making sure to be as quick and as silent as possible he jammed the pin into the lock and expertly twisted it a couple of times.

''_Perfect…'', _he thought, a wide happy grin spreading on his face when he heard the tell-tale click. Sliding the door open, he entered and quickly punched in the security code. The light on it turned green and he, not bothering to re-close the door, slowly navigated his way through the dark house towards Anna Marie's bedroom.

''_**Yes, there she is…'', **_the voice crooned happily when he pushed her already ajar bedroom door open wider and stepped inside.

He smiled.

''_**Go to her. Claim her!'', **_the voice encouraged.

He nodded his head and opening his rucksack, pulled out a piece of rope and a Swiss-army knife. Setting the now empty bag down, he let his eyes drink in the sight before him: Anna Marie, lying asleep with her blanket thrown aside. He looked at her angelic, peaceful face first, burning the image of it into his mind.

''_Anna Marie…so beautiful, so perfect…'',_ he thought, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath she took.

''_**What are you waiting for?!'',**_ the voice asked, once again angry. _**''Claim her before someone else does!''.**_

He momentarily stiffened at the voice's insinuation then nodded and being careful not to jostle the precious young woman's sleeping form, he climbed onto the bed and slowly crawled towards her.

Anna Marie sighed in her sleep and her face scrunched up into the most adorable little frown he'd ever seen, making him smile.

He watched her for a few seconds longer and then continued. The voice in his head hummed in appreciation when he lightly skimmed his latex glove covered hand up her bare calf, imagining how her soft, lightly tanned skin would feel against his rough, calloused palm.

Sighing in mild disappointment at having to deny himself of such pleasure, he carefully continued crawling up until he was straddling her hips. Anna Marie shifted and sighed again, her eyelashes fluttering lightly against her cheeks.

''_**Stop pussy-footing around…'',**_ the voice chided him, _**''…she's waking up! Do it now!''.**_

He scoffed but still obeyed. Gently lifting up both of Anna Marie's wrists, he quickly tied them together with the rope and then fastened them to the iron headboard of her bed.

The action, however quick, was finally enough to wake the sleeping young woman. Her eyebrows scrunched up, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks once, twice…

He leaned over her face…waiting, watching.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open and he smiled at her adoringly. She looked back at him, trying to blink back the sleep and the slight confusion still clouding her mind.

''_Ah…'',_ he thought as he stared intently at her face, _''…such pretty eyes. Green…almost like emeralds''._

Suddenly, realization dawned and Anna Marie's eyes widened in horror. She opened her mouth to scream but he shushed her with a finger on her lips and a low, love filled whisper: ''now, now my love. None of that…there's absolutely nothing to worry about…''.

The young woman's eyes widened even further and she, overtaken with bone-deep, paralyzing terror, screamed.

Faster than he'd ever done so, he clamped a hand on her mouth, immediately shutting her up. He growled at her disobedience, his baby blues turning dark as he glared down at her and hissed: ''I told to be quiet Anna!''.

She chocked back a sob that tried to make its way to the surface and screwed her eyes shut tight.

''_**No!'', **_the voice in his head screeched loudly, _**''…she has to look at us! Make her look at us!''.**_

He only nodded in agreement and barked out: ''open your eyes, Anna''.

She shook her head no, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He and the voice growled disapprovingly in unison. ''Open. Your. Eyes!'', he screamed in her face, punctuating each word with an ever so slightly tightening grip on her right upper arm and a shake.

She whimpered in fear and slowly opened them.

He stared down at her, searching her eyes for something…what, she didn't know.

''_**It's not there…it's not…it's not there. Not there, not there, not there!'', **_the voice raved, going from disappointed to angry in a matter of seconds.

''_Not there?'', _he thought, momentarily confused. Then, realization set in: ''not there? Not there, not there, not there…NOT THERE!''.

Anna Marie flinched.

''Oh, Anna…why? Why is it not there?'', he asked, his voice sounded genuinely pained but only for a brief moment. ''Why? Why is it not there, Anna!'', he yelled in her face, his own twisted with unbridled rage.

She mumbled under his palm but it seemed like he didn't hear her.

''Got nothing to say, huh? Alright then…'', he hissed. Bunching the material of her underwear in his hand, he hurriedly ripped the garment off of her.

She cried out but his massive palm muffled the sound.

''Nothing to say…'', he kept mumbling under his breath while trying to rip apart the old Rolling Stones t-shirt she slept in. Growling furiously when he did not succeed, he grabbed the Swiss-army knife he'd briefly abandoned while tying her hands to the bedpost, he roughly cut through the thin, cottony material.

More tears escaped Anna Marie's eyes when she saw him yanking at his belt and then unfasten his jeans. Feeling absolutely helpless, all she could do was whimper in fear as thoughts of what was about to happen consumed her mind.

* * *

**I can't tell you when exactly I'll update again but it should be sometime next week, at the latest. Until then though, please review and let me know what you think...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Criminal Minds or its characters. What I do own is this plot and a few OC's…**

**This story is rated M for a reason. If you are under the age of 18 please refrain from reading it.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1:**

* * *

**NOW:**

Dusting her cheeks with a light coating of rosy blush Penelope huffed and meeting the eyes of her companion in the mirror she sat in front of, asked: ''you just don't know when to give up do you Stan?''.

''Penny…'', he started, his voice sounding exasperated, ''I…''.

''You what? '', she interrupted, ''…did you honestly think that if you kept pushing me I'd just up and give in?''.

He glared at her reflection.

She cracked a little smile at him and continued: ''…I thought you knew me better than that…''.

''It's not funny Penelope…''.

''No it really isn't! So why don't you just…'', running his hands through his hair and then tugging at them, Stanley Elsworth groaned loudly, cutting her off mid-sentence: ''...God dammit, woman! I'm just trying to keep you safe, can't you see that and give me a fucking break?!'', he shouted, his patience running low.

''I am safe!'', she shot back.

He growled.

''As your manager, it is my fucking _duty_ to make sure that…'', he started but she raised her hand up, stopping him. ''Yes, you are my manager…and I appreciate all that you do for me very much, Stan. But when I say no to something, that means exactly that - no…''.

Closing his eyes, Stanley took a deep, calming breath and then, his voice once again gentle, said: ''Penny please. It's not like I am trying to bring in The National Guard to keep you safe. I am merely looking for a couple of guys to make up a security detail for you…''.

''Stan…'', she started with a heavy sigh only to stop when someone knocked on the door of the small make-up room she and Stanley currently found themselves holed up in. A couple of seconds later, the door opened and a tall young man with shaggy brown hair entered.

''Sorry to interrupt, Ms Garcia…'', he started with a sheepish smile, ''…but we go live in two minutes and I need you to come with me…''.

Once again, Penelope sighed.

''Oh and…these are for you…'', he added, quickly thrusting the huge bouquet of flowers resting in his arms at her.

''Here…'', Stan muttered, jumping in to help her, ''…let me get those for you''.

Gracing him with a genuine smile for the first time that day, Penelope gladly handed the flowers over to her manager and friend with a quiet murmur of thank you.

He smiled back at her and said: ''…go on now. We'll finish this conversation later''.

She rolled her eyes. ''There's nothing to finish, Stan''.

Closing his own, Stanley Elsworth massaged the bridge of his nose: ''Penelope. I understand you don't want a bodyguard, but girl, please'', he begged, his eyes fixated on hers, ''…if you won't do this one thing I ask of you for your safety, then please do it for the sake of my sanity…''.

She opened her mouth to answer him only to snap it shut when the young man still standing at the ajar door spoke again: ''I'm really sorry to interrupt Ms Garcia, but we really need to go. Now…''.

She nodded her head at him in acknowledgment then turned on her heel and exited the room with a quiet: ''…I'll think about it, Stan''.

The door to the room shut closed with a bang as Stanley Elsworth tried to contain the victorious smile slowly spreading on his face. Looking down at the bouquet of flowers still resting in his arms, he walked over to the vanity Penelope had been primping at just a mere two minutes ago.

Not able to locate a vase, Stan settled for simply dropping the flowers on the cushy looking vanity bench.

As he did so, a piece of cream colored paper slipped out from within the bouquet, landing silently at Stan's feet. Recognizing that particular brand of paper almost immediately, he groaned: ''...not again...''.

Sighing heavily he crouched down, picked it up, turned it over and read: **'You belong to me, Penelope… and soon, very soon, I'll take what's rightfully mine…'**

''_Over my cold, dead body you son-of-a-bitch!'', _he thought.

_''…you ain't gettin' anywhere near her if it kills me…'', _Stan seethed silently as he slowly got back up. Shoving the note into his jeans pocket, he rushed over to his briefcase. Opening it, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Making sure he was still alone in the room, he lifted up a couple of folders and wrapped his hand around the 9MM Glock.

Quickly glancing at his wristwatch, Stanley Elsworth cursed under his breath. Hastily tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, he buttoned up his blazer thus further hiding the gun from the view of inquiring eyes and ran towards the main studio where he could hear one of the many assistants starting the count-down: ''…five, four, three, two, one…and...we're live!''.

''Good morning Washington!'', greeted the cheery voice of the show's host just as Stan reached the studio, his eyes racking over the people milling about, desperate to find Penelope and make sure she was alright, ''…I'm Kelly O'Donnell and I couldn't be happier to tell you all that we'll be starting this wonderful Wednesday morning with a special appearance from the author of the captivating '_Women's Murder Club' _series. Please give a warm welcome to Ms Penelope Garcia!''.

The audience erupted into loud cheers, applauding Penelope as she made her way over to the presenter and Stan, flooded with relief, momentarily closed his eyes.

''Ms Garcia, may I just say, it is so wonderful to have you here today…'', the host cooed happily while shaking Penny's hand and then gestured for her to take a seat on one of the couches.

Penelope smiled brightly and as she took the proffered seat, said: ''why thank you, Kelly. It's most definitely my pleasure to be here…and please, call me Penelope''.

* * *

As the interview winded down and the presenter was thanking Penelope for her appearance on the early morning show, Stanley let his eyes sweep over the audience and the staff members who were, apparently, awaiting further instructions, looking for anyone who so much as looked at Penny the wrong way.

His mind too preoccupied with his self-set task, Stan didn't notice Penelope make her way over to him until she was right next to him, waving a hand in his face.

Startled, he jumped a little.

Penelope looked at him worriedly, ''…are you okay, Stan?''.

He swallowed down the lump of unease forming at the back of his throat, brushed a hand through his curly, honey colored, chin length locks and sighed: ''…yeah, babe. I'm fine''.

She scowled at him: ''…you're a lousy liar, you know that?''.

He looked down at her, flashing her with her favorite lazy grin and then answered: ''u-huh…whatever you say my sweet…''.

She rolled her eyes at the endearment and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist as he leaned down to whisper in her ear: ''…come on, let's go home. I told Chris to bring the car around the back a couple of minutes ago so he's probably already waiting for us…''.

''But I thought we were gonna go to Maize for a celebratory post-interview breakfast…'', Penelope whispered.

Stan glanced at his wristwatch: ''…well, its 08:15 and Maize doesn't open until 09:00…''.

''Oh, right…right'', she answered sounding somewhat dejected, her eyes studying the linoleum covered floor as they slowly made their way towards the back exit.

Stanley smiled to himself and then wrapped his arm around her waist even tighter. She glanced up at him.

''It's gonna open in 45 minutes, doll…'', he started, ''…so how about this: we stop by the publishing house first, you confirm the date and location for another book signing with Eli then we hunt down 'Katzy' and then make our way to Maize which should be open by the time we're done?''.

Finally, she grinned at him. ''You know Stan, if you weren't such a player I'd marry you in a jiffy…''.

He chuckled and answered: ''you sure know how to make a man feel special, sugar…''.

Penelope only nodded her head as if saying 'damn straight!' which only made her dear friend laugh, something she hadn't seen him do in a while now…

* * *

**I'll update again in a couple of days or so. Until then though, leave me some love please….**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Criminal Minds or its characters but I do happen to own this plot and all the twists and turns it might entail…**

**This story is rated M for a reason. If you are under the age of 18 please refrain from reading it.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2:**

* * *

**TWO MONTHS AGO:**

''Good morning, sweetheart…'', Arthur Andrews whispered lovingly as he leaned down to kiss the cheek of his wife who sat at the kitchen table with a cup of green tea in her hands, her eyes perusing the morning paper.

She smiled at the endearment and looked up at the man she openly called the love of her life. Taking in the thick pair of gloves and the hedge shears he held in his hands, she raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

''I'm gonna go and trim the shrubbery out back some…or at least I'll try…heaven knows it's been awhile since anyone's touched it…'', he replied to his wife's silent question.

Julia chuckled, stood up and pecked him on the cheek: ''…you do that honey''.

He chuckled right back and exited through the back door with a loud bellow: ''…holler if you need me, I'll come runnin' to your rescue…''.

She laughed and then set about washing her now empty tea cup and then moving onto her usual morning chores when the shrill ringing of the phone in the living room startled her, making her jump.

''Good grief…'', she muttered under her breath. Quickly wiping her sudsy hands with a kitchen towel, she hastily made her way over to the still ringing phone.

Snatching the portable cordless device off of the coffee table, Julia pressed answer: ''…hello?''.

''Good morning…Mrs Andrews'', the gruff male voice on the other end greeted, ''…I'm Doctor Stevens from the 4Paws Veterinary clinic…''.

''Yes…'', Julia said slowly, a frown forming on her forehead.

''I am sorry to bother you so early but you have been registered as Ms Geraldi's emergency contact and since her cat…''.

''Molly…''.

''Yes, Molly…has recovered from her surgery nicely and is more than ready to go home, I wondered if you would mind stopping by the clinic to pick her up?''.

Julia's frown deepened: ''…of course I wouldn't…although I have to ask, why have I been contacted about this? Shouldn't your office have called Anna Marie?''.

Doctor Stevens sighed heavily: ''…that's just the thing Mrs Andrews. I have been calling her since yesterday afternoon and she hasn't, as of yet, returned any of my calls…Now, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have bothered you just yet. But I've known Anna for a long, long while now and even with as busy a life-style as the one she leads, I am more than confident in saying that it's almost disturbingly unusual for her not to call me back…I mean, heavens know, she loves that cat more than…''.

''…more than life itself…'', Julia finished for him, ''…yes, you're quite right about that…'', she chuckled somewhat humorlessly and then continued: ''…frankly, I am really worried now so let me check on her and then I'll come pick Molly up…''.

''Sounds good to me. I'll see you in a bit Mrs Andrews…''.

''Of course, dear. You take care now…'', Julia uttered politely before hanging up.

Gently gnawing on her bottom lip, she gazed out the window and into the back garden where Arthur was working up quite a sweat. Not wanting to distract him from the task he'd been going on and on about for the better part of a month now, Julia sighed, grabbed her purse and car keys and made her way out the front door. Closing and locking it behind her, she turned left and headed for her neighbor's house, her heart clenching with worry for the girl she and her husband, who'd lived here since just after their first son, Harry, had been born, had met the very day she had moved to Elm Street some eight years ago.

Having reached Anna Marie's front door, Julia knocked once, twice…no answer. ''Anna Marie!'', she called out, ''…are you home?''. Again, no answer.

Getting even more worried, the old woman peered through a narrow window just to the left side of the front door. The security system panel was flashing a red light which meant it was armed. Thinking that her young, sometimes overly too ambitious neighbor had already left for work, Julia calmed some and turned to head to her car when she noticed it. Blood…a trail of blood drops disappearing around the corner of the house to her right.

Julia gasped and clutched her chest: ''…oh God'', she mumbled under her breath, her heartbeat picking up speed with every passing second. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed down the quickly building feeling of apprehension and followed the blood trail around the property and all the way to the wide open back door.

Momentarily freezing in her tracks, all the old woman could do was stare at the blood drops which have been steadily increasing in size…until that is, her eyes settled on the bloody hand shaped smudge marring the white wood of the door frame.

Snapping herself out of the fear induced stupor, Julia screamed: ''Arthur!''.

* * *

By the time Inspector Warren Jensen's vehicle skidded to a stop, the entire Elm Street was already awash with red and blue lights of Police vehicles. Cursing his luck, he jumped out of his midnight blue Crown Vic and slowly pushed his way through the thick crowd of onlookers and cops alike, only nodding his head in greeting at the young Officer who was bestowed with the unfortunate duty of cordoning-off the crime scene.

Flashing his badge at the Officer standing guard at the front door, Warren entered the premises and frowned for it wasn't any better in here then it was outside - the place was crawling with activity.

He let his eyes roam the room he stood in, patiently looking for the face of his partner when someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

Scowling, Jensen turned towards the culprit.

''Brooks'', he greeted his partner with a brief nod of his head, ''…what do we have here?''.

Darren Brooks sighed and pointed towards what seemed to be a bedroom: ''…see for yourself''.

Warren frowned: ''…another one?'', he asked. His partner only nodded his head in confirmation.

''Anything else I should know?''.

''Well…'', Brooks started, ''…Charlie and his CSU team are out back, workin' their magic. I'll go there and see if they managed to dig anything up and you should head to the bedroom…the Coroner is waiting for you…''.

Inspector Jensen pursed his lips and slowly nodded his head in agreement. ''…okay, you do that. I'll see you in a bit…''.

Darren took a deep breath and walked off, leaving Warren alone.

Sighing, he cast another quick glance around the room still bustling with activity before he hesitantly made his way to the bedroom. Warily pushing the door open, he took in a deep breath to steady himself for he already knew what he would see upon entering.

* * *

**NOW:**

After the long and exhausting day he'd had, Stan Elsworth leaned his head back against the plush back seat of the limo he currently found himself in with a tired sigh.

''Long day?'', asked the driver, Chris, having long ago lowered the partition separating the back of the limo from the front.

Giving the young driver a smile, Stan muttered: ''…you have no idea…''.

Chris only smiled in return at that before asking: ''…so where to, Mr Elsworth? I guess you'd like to go home..?''.

Stan shook his head no: ''…nah kid, take me to Jake's…''.

The young man behind the wheel winced and, his voice turning sympathetic, asked: ''…that bad, huh?''.

All he received in answer was a deep groan.

''Ooookay then…'', Chris exclaimed as he expertly navigated the fancy car through the rapidly darkening, rainy streets of Washington, DC: ''…Jake's Bar it is…''.

* * *

**Another update coming soon…until then though, please review and let me know what you think of the story so far…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Criminal Minds or its characters. The plot of this story, however, does belong to me…**

**This story is rated M for a reason. If you are under the age of 18 please refrain from reading it.**

**A/N: I am so, so sorry for making you all wait so long for this chapter. It's just that the last couple of months (Ahhh! I can't freaking believe it's been that long!) have been really stressful, to the point where I felt like ripping my hair out, and although I probably could have found a minute here or there to put together a chapter sooner, I really didn't want to fuck this story up. So yeah…**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3:**

* * *

**NOW: **

Smoothing back his rain dampened wavy hair, Stanley entered Jake's Bar. Almost immediately he was greeted by John and Carter, the two local drunks who were always present whenever he so much as set a foot inside the most popular dive bar in town.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement to their greeting, Stan made his way towards the bar where he could see Jake – a grouchy, fifty something year old ex-marine and the owner of the said place wiping down wineglasses with a piece of tattered cloth.

Perching down on one of the last available stools, Stanley gave the older man a weary, tired smile: ''hey Jake. Been a long time…''.

''Sure has been…'', Jake agreed. Throwing the cloth he'd just used aside, he set the now clean glasses back in their rightful place.

''Now then…'', he continued, giving Stanley an appraising glance, trying to gauge the other man's mood, ''…are ya just gonna sit there all night lookin' pretty or are ya gonna order, princess?''.

Having forgotten just how unpredictable the old ex-militant could be sometimes, Stanley found himself somewhat stunned by the rude-ish question, until that is, Jake laughed – a loud, full belly laugh that carried all the way across the room, catching the attention of the other patrons.

Lightly shaking his head, Stan chuckled: ''…yup. You sure haven't changed a bit…''.

Jake smirked in return. ''So. What's it gonna be?''.

''Scotch…and it'd better be a double you bastard!''.

Once again the old man laughed and giving Stan a thumbs up seized a couple of clean tumblers. Grabbing a bottle of Scotch they both seemed to favor, Jake poured two double shots of the amber colored liquid.

Before he could hand the glass over though, a man Jake had never seen in his bar before sat down right next to Stanley. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have given a half-a-second's worth of attention to the man, except to take his order of course, but this one was different somehow…there just seemed to be an air of authority about him that had Jake wondering as to who this man could be.

''Scotch please…a double…''.

Giving the man an assessing look, Jake nodded and grabbing a third tumbler poured the stranger a double shot of his favorite Scotch.

Setting the newcomers tumbler in front of him, the old man handed the second one over to Stanley and then picked up his own.

Smiling, Stanley Elsworth raised his glass and clanked it to Jake's. He stopped short of taking a sip when the stranger sat next to him set his now empty glass on the wooden surface of the bar, asking for a refill.

Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he silently assessed the man too.

The stranger - whoever he was - shoulders squared with tension, eyes closed, massaged the bridge of his nose while he waited for his refill.

A little, knowing smile lifted one corner of Stan's mouth and as the ex-marine set a fresh double shot of Scotch in front of the man, he asked: ''…rough day, huh?''.

The man cast a glance at Stan, snorted, swirled the drink in his tumbler before taking a big gulp and then answered: ''…you could say that…''.

Stanley chuckled before he himself took a good gulp of his drink.

Clearing his throat, Stan said: ''you know, I've heard there are only two things in the world that can make a man want to get as shitfaced as possible. The first being his job…''. Once more swirling his drink, he took a little sip and then continued: ''…and the second one would, of course, be a woman…so…which one is it?''.

The man, who up until a few seconds ago was staring into his half empty glass, turned towards Stan and answered: ''…how about both?''.

Stan, his eyebrows raised in question, turned towards the man fully now: ''…what, seriously? Man that sucks!''.

The man snorted under his breath: ''…you can say that again…''. Bringing his glass up to his lips, he finished his drink off in two big gulps. Setting the once again empty tumbler on the bars surface, the newcomer once again pushed it towards Jake.

The old man made quick work of refilling the glass. Setting it back in front of the stranger he said: ''…this one's on the house…''.

The man hesitated for only a second before thanking Jake.

Jake waved him off and as he set about refilling his own glass, Stan asked: ''…so…uh, what happened? If you don't mind me asking?''.

The man heaved a long, deep sigh. ''The usual. Came back home to divorce papers rather than a wife…the end''.

Stanley winced: ''…yeah…now that…yup, that really sucks''. The man only nodded his head in agreement.

''She tell you why she wants a divorce?'', asked Jake.

The man shook his head no in answer.

''Huh…so…what about your job?'', he continued. The starnger then raised a questioning eyebrow at the older man and Jake sighed: ''…look. I don't mean to pry, but…you just give off this vibe of an authority figure…made me wander is all. So, you a cop or something?''.

The man finished off his drink in two big gulps and sighed: ''…FBI, actually. Or rather was…until this afternoon…''.

''A fed?'', asked Stan, ''…huh…so Mr. FBI…you got fired?'', he continued as Jake once more refilled both of their glasses.

The man sighed: ''its Aaron…Aaron Hotchner and no. I did not get fired''.

''Well…'', Stan started, his hand extended for a shake, ''it's nice to meet ya Aaron. I'm Stanley Elsworth but you can call me Stan…and this old grump over there…'', he continued, now pointing at the man behind the bar, ''…is Jake''.

Aaron nodded at the older man and he grumbled something incoherent under his breath before nodding back.

''Okay, so…since I really don't want to pry…'', Stanley started only to be interrupted by Jake's not-so-subtle snort, ''…any more…'', he continued with a glare thrown in the ex-marine's direction, ''…than I already have…I ain't gonna ask you any more questions, but…'', he glanced at his wristwatch, ''…yeah, it's just about time I skedaddle outta here so, what I'm gonna do is…'', Stan stood up, dug out his wallet, settled the tab and then handed Aaron his business card,''…Cliff Notes version: I need a security guard for one of my clients and since you're...um, were, or whatever, a fed and all…I thought you might be interested…''.

Aaron took it, if somewhat hesitantly, ''I-…''.

''You don't have to answer right now. Think about it, sleep on it…or something…and uh, if you find yourself with spare time on your hands, call. I'll have my assistant arrange a meeting for us and we can hash out the details then…''.

* * *

**Its short, I know. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can...Thanks for your patience.**


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